


All In Good Time

by Totoffle



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Handcuffs, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29685591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totoffle/pseuds/Totoffle
Summary: What Mark really wants to know is how Gary has time for all of this...
Relationships: Gary Barlow/Mark Owen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	All In Good Time

**Author's Note:**

> Another one from the archives, this time a little bit of teasing. This is set in mid-2013 or so, when Mark was releasing _TAODN_ and Gary was ~~pratting about~~ on _X Factor_. It's silly, it's smutty, but hopefully it's entertaining. It entertained me, but then I thoroughly enjoy being mean to Markie.

At this precise moment in time, Mark hates Gary with every fibre of his being.

He loves him deeply, of course, but he detests and despises him too, based solely on one thing Gary said to him at eight o'clock that morning, before they went their separate ways for the day.

_"I'm gonna have a lot of fun with you, tonight."_

Pressing a kiss to the top of Mark's head, Gary had grabbed his car keys and flask of freshly made tea, and shot out the door before Mark could even blink. Which he did, rather stupidly and for several minutes, as he struggled to process what he'd been told.

Gary always did have a way with words.

* * *

It's just gone ten, and time seems to slow down with every glance at his watch. Mark's on his second cup of _very_ strong coffee, and his third cigarette of the day, when his phone beeps.

A text. Mark smiles as he opens it, happy to receive a message from Gary.

_You'd better pay attention to my texts today, Markie. Got instructions for you._

Oh, it's _that_ sort of text.

Mark puts his phone on the side and trudges upstairs to finish getting ready, wondering what kind of instructions he's got to look forward to. His head whirls with possibilities, and he tries in vain to block all thoughts of Gary whilst brushing his teeth. It's difficult: wherever he looks he spots an item belonging to Gary, and that in turn sets his mind spinning in another direction.

Giving up on his hair entirely (it's having a _fuck it_ day), Mark re-enters the kitchen in time to hear his phone bleep.

_Want you naked and ready for me when I get home_.

Mark groans, hurriedly closing the message. He can tell that this is the tip of the iceberg, and subsequent messages will get worse. He won't bother replying to any of them. What would he say? _Stop it, please_? Yeah, that'd work. Gary would give up sending him rude messages designed to drive him wild... Or, more likely, he'd ramp up the filth, bombarding Mark with text after text, until Mark couldn't take it anymore and came where he stood.

In an attempt to stop thinking about it, Mark rests against the counter for one last cup of coffee. He's idly contemplating leaving his phone behind, but that'd be stupid for two reasons. One: there might be a genuine emergency, and he'd regret not having it on him. And two: if he doesn't read Gary's orders he'll surely pay for it later.

A car honks outside, and Mark pulls himself together as best he can. He's got an interview to do, and he can't be thinking with his cock. No more than usual, anyway.

"Alright, Mark?" Neil, Mark's driver for the day, beams at him as he gets in and closes the door. They've known each other for years, and his presence is relaxing. "How's Gaz?"

"He's fine, thanks," Mark tells him. He clicks his seatbelt in and stuffs his bag into the footwell. "He's doing _X Factor_ auditions, so he's gonna be really busy and home late, I'd imagine..."

They set off, the majority of the journey passing in companionable silence. The lush scenery whizzes past the windows as the car builds up speed along the motorway, but Mark is too distracted to notice it. He can hardly concentrate on the lovely hills, the pretty trees, the beautiful horses... all because of the blasted contraption that could go off at any sec-

It beeps.

Mark doesn't want to look, but he'll have to, eventually. Might as well get it over with, he supposes, fumbling for it and sighing as he feels the still-vibrating plastic against his fingers.

_Kneeling on the bedroom floor._

"All okay?"

Mark jumps. "Oh, yeah," he says quickly, stuffing the phone away and doing his best, confident grin. "Gary checking in, you know. He likes to make sure everything's under control. Part of being the Captain."

"I see," says the ever-professional Neil, still glued to the road. "Keeping an eye on you, is he?"

"Something along those lines."

They chat pleasantly during the final miles, covering Gary ("He's a nice lad, your Gary is."), _X Factor_ ("I don't watch it myself, but the wife does."), and the rising price of petrol ("Shocking, absolutely shocking."). Mark is thankful for the distraction from salacious text messages.

The very second he steps out the car, however, he hears a familiar jingle. Mark waits until Neil has driven off to find a parking space, before taking his phone out and swiping Gary's message open.

_Hands behind your back, cuffs ready._

What Mark really wants to know is how Gary has time for all of this. He's supposed to be at work! And if the amount of complaining when he gets home is anything to go by, he scarcely has a moment to think straight let alone construct saucy texts. Mark has half a mind to call Simon Cowell and inform him of what Gary gets up to when he's meant to be focussing on the current batch of hopefuls.

Then again, Mark is flattered by the attention.

He's greeted by a bubbly journalist, who shows him up to her office and offers him a chair, a cup of tea, anything in the world as long a she gets her scoop. Not that there's much to be scooped right now, unless she gains access to his mobile.

Mark doesn't take any of it in, which he feels guilty about. He can only think of Gary, and whether there'll be any more instructions coming his way. He has to snap back to reality, has to listen to what the journalist is saying to him, but it's tricky.

"So, was it strange for Robbie to be with you on the last album, and is he _back for good_?"

And there she goes: the dullest questions ever, the ones that come up so frequently they've started placing bets on when they do. So far, someone has always won.

Mark launches into the standard answer, and it's as he's using the word _brothers_ that there's a vibration in his pocket. He's glad he muted the sound, but they both hear it buzzing all the same. Mark winces, and can only hope he covers it well.

"Do you need to deal with that?"

"No, don't worry, please carry on."

"Are you alright?" the journalist asks, eyes widening as she searches for something to write down. _Aging Pop Star Mark Owen Confused by Technology?_ _Aging Pop Star Mark Owen Interrupts Important Interview to Check His Phone?_ Neither sound great. "Can I get you a glass of water?"

_Aging Pop Star Mark Owen in Shaky Hands Water Spillage Incident_...

"I'm fine, honestly." Mark smiles, to try and get into the swing of things. "What was I saying?"

The interview resumes, and Mark does everything in his power to stay engaged. Despite his best efforts, his brain keeps wandering to what the message might say, what terrible thing Gary has come up with to torture him with this time. He tolerates it for six minutes.

Making his apologies, Mark asks if he can use the bathroom. It's tiny, barely sufficient room to move around in. Mark hardly notices. He locks the door and leans on the wall for support, sweating in the dark. There's no point in switching the light on.

"Bloody Barlow..."

He shuts his eyes, trying to steady his breathing as he unlocks his phone with a swipe of his thumb.

When he's brave enough to open them, he discovers the latest message is a single word:

_Lubed_.

A shudder runs down his back, his cock twitching in anticipation of what's to come. Gary has always seemed to know the right thing to say to get Mark going... which is lucky.

He gives himself a shake and goes to finish the interview. For the first time in his entire career he doesn't bother with anything other than perfunctory, unimaginative answers, and for the first time _ever_ , he doesn't care. He can only think about getting home _now_ , before he loses his mind, and unfortunately that means the young journalist won't get the juicy story she was banking on.

Once it's over, Mark dashes out to the street and is relieved to see the car parked in the waiting bay outside. Sliding gratefully into the passenger seat, Mark relaxes slightly. Neil chucks his newspaper in the back, greeting him with a smile and an inquiry as to how it went.

"Fine, thanks," Mark says, chucking his bag roughly down at his feet. "Usual stuff, fairly normal and boring. Listen, mate, can you get me home as soon as possible? I'm not feeling so great and I just want to get to bed."

Neil makes a sympathetic face, and nods. "Of course. I know a shortcut, should save us ten or so miles. Eh, you do look quite pale, you try and get some kip on the way."

"I might do, cheers."

They pull onto the main road, and Mark rests his temple on the cool glass of the window, closing his eyes. He gets little to no sleep, partly because Neil swears loudly every time they get lost, but mostly because he's anticipating the next text.

It doesn't come.

* * *

It's chilly in the bedroom, and Mark shivers as he kneels on the floor, naked. He regrets not turning the heating up.

The waiting is the worst part of it, more so than the messages. He thinks he's completed each one of the tasks, but in situations like this he can't help but worry something's been forgotten. If he stands up to fix it, he runs the risk of not being in the expected position when Gary finds him, and he's unwilling to do that.

Not knowing the exact time Gary is going to get home is as bad as the waiting itself, or at least it's more frustrating.

From his place in the dimly lit room, Mark can see the digital clock on his bedside table. He tries to ignore it, but it's in his line of sight and, well, there's nothing else to look at. Each time the numbers flick over he feels a rush of excitement and nervousness, wondering if, at some point during this minute, he'll hear a key in the door.

He doesn't.

He doesn't.

And he doesn't...

...and then he does.

Time freezes as the front door opens and closes, and Gary removes his coat and shoes in the hallway. Mark listens, his heart close to bursting, his breath quickening as he waits for Gary to climb the stairs and put him out of his misery.

There's a soft _click_ , and Mark realises what it is: Gary fiddling with the thermostat, increasing the temperature. A caring gesture, yes, but also a sign he's planning on taking his time. Indeed, the next thing he hears is Gary padding into the lounge, probably to pour a quick drink or file the day's paperwork, or maybe to choose some appropriate music...

Or, as it happens, to watch television.

Television! At a time like this! Gary wouldn't forget about him, would he? Not today, surely? Mark doesn't dare to move, in case. The numbers on the clock continue to change excruciatingly slowly, slower than could actually be possible, and he's getting increasingly worked up as the seconds wear on. Every so often, Gary laughs at whatever he's watching, the sound sending a tremor down Mark's spine.

Then the telephone rings.

"Hello?" Gary's voice is loud enough to be heard upstairs, as if he's doing it on purpose. Bastard. "Ah, hi! How are you?"

Mark has no idea who it is, but he hates them-

"No, you're fine! We said seven, didn't we? And I make it just gone five past. Trust me, after being with Mark for twenty years, you start to appreciate what late is..."

-almost as much as he hates Gary.

"Ah, he's great, thanks for asking. He's busy right now, so I'm trying not to disturb him." Gary chuckles to himself. "Let me get in the studio, and we'll get started. It shouldn't take longer than-"

Mark doesn't get to hear how long whatever it is will take, because Gary goes out of earshot before he giving him the tiniest glimmer of hope. His knees are starting to get sore, but he's far too stubborn to give up purely because it's a bit of a challenge, which is why he and Gary get on so well (and why they bicker).

Nevertheless, Mark decides if Gary doesn't get his arse up to the bedroom in twenty minutes, he'll 'accidentally' drop some cutlery in the blender and switch it on. No breakfast smoothies would teach Gary a lesson.

At nineteen minutes, when Mark is deciding which spoon he'd miss the least, there's the squeak of someone putting their weight on the bottom step, then the unmistakable sound of Gary's feet coming up the stairs.

Mark inhales sharply, and keeps it in. This is it, this is what he's been waiting for...

Gary enters the room and walks over to the drawers in the corner. Mark can't see what he's doing, and wants nothing more than to find out. After shuffling what sounds like papers and extracting a few, Gary turns on his heel and leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

Twat.

Unable to stop himself, Mark whines petulantly, not quite loud enough for Gary to pick up on, but enough to regret it instantly. He'll admit to his little protest eventually, whether he means to or not.

That's the problem with their relationship, and with Mark in general: he can't tell a lie. He'd managed to keep Gary's surprise birthday party a secret for three months, despite the deceit gnawing at him from the inside whenever he'd lied about where he was off to or what was in the box he was carrying, and he'd been certain he was going to develop some sort of ulcer. He'd done it, though, not a single bean spilled.

When it's something like this, however, he has to tell the truth.

If Gary asks if he's been good, Mark will have to say no.

Ten minutes later, Gary hasn't returned and Mark is unravelling. His knees hurt, he's been hard for ages, he's getting tired...

A creak, a thump, then another and another.

This is it. Mark feels it in his bones, and in his cock. It stands to attention as he counts the footsteps on the stairs, across the landing, towards the bedroom door. Mark's heart beats wildly, and it's a struggle to stay still. He's waited this long and only has to keep it up for a few more seconds...

"Well, well, well."

Gary slips up behind him, and Mark jumps when a hand is placed on his shoulder.

"What a good boy, eh?" Gary begins to massage Mark's muscles, rubbing his thumbs up and down the nape of his neck. He's amazing with his hands, always knowing where to apply the pressure. Not only during massages, either. "Ready and waiting, just for me."

Gary's fingers feel wonderful on Mark's back and, relaxing into it, he forgives him for everything. He'd wanted to be upright and strong, but the more Gary rubs the more Mark melts, and before too long he's hunched over, quiet as a mouse, mere minutes from crumbling and crying out.

It's quicker than that, actually.

"Shh, Markie." Gary moves to the small of Mark's back, pressing firmly. Mark arches his spine, desperate to get what he can before it's taken away. "You've been waiting a long time, haven't you? And you've done so well..."

Mark jolts in surprise when two of Gary's fingers glide all the way down and circle smoothly against his entrance.

"Very well indeed," Gary says. "I see you followed my orders, good boy. And good boys get rewards, don't they?"

Mark nods, unsure whether he's allowed to speak. He decides to keep his indiscretions a secret for awhile longer, in case it makes Gary change his mind. He'll confess later, when his brain isn't so fuddled and his cock isn't aching.

He hears Gary picking the handcuffs up, and shudders as his wrists are secured. It's not like he's wearing them for the first time tonight, but this is more intense than anything they've ever done, magnified by a thousand.

"Gorgeous," Gary says, kissing a short trail down Mark's neck and along his shoulders. He wraps his arms around Mark from behind, speaking softly into his ear. "It's not just you who's been waiting all day, you know. Every time I sent one of those texts I had to stop myself nipping to the loo for fifteen minutes!"

Mark's cock twitches as he whimpers involuntarily, and Gary immediately notices. Not much gets past him.

"You like that, do you? The thought of me being so horny, so horny _because of you_ , I have to go and have a wank so I can get on with work? Does that make you feel good, Markie?"

Mark nods again, a bit braver.

"I see." Gary gets up. "I might have to do something about that."

He slides his hands under Mark's armpits, helping him to stand. He waits for Mark to regain the feeling in his legs, and Mark is tempted to loll on him lovingly, but resists. There's plenty of time, after all.

"Better?"

Mark nods.

"Good. C'mere."

Gary leads Mark to the bed, sitting on the edge before manoeuvring him over his lap. Mark goes without complaint. Gary's erection presses against his hip, and he has to work to ignore it. Gary lays one hand on Mark's bum, and uses the other to hold his wrists out of the way.

"You've been so good at following my instructions, Markie. But wanting me to be horny because of you, possibly throwing my new role as Head Judge in jeopardy? That deserves a spanking."

Mark wriggles in place. He isn't worried - Gary wouldn't hurt him - but it's embarrassing being held like this, knowing what's about to happen, the anticipation worse than anything once again. Gary makes him wait longer, rubbing his hands over Mark's buttocks, enjoying having him there.

The first one is always a shock and, though it's not terribly hard, Mark lets out a yelp.

Gary doesn't pause to check he's okay, because he knows everything is fine. Instead, he does it a second time, firmer and on the other side, circling his palm on the spot afterwards to make it more interesting.

"I love doing this," Gary says, spanking him twice more for good measure. Mark buries his face in the duvet, wishing he had his hands free to grab hold of it. "Especially when you deserve it... maybe even more when you don't."

Mark senses it's the latter, considering he hasn't done anything _really_ bad. Gary wants an excuse to spank him, which is what matters. Mark isn't supposed to get a say in it, and he loves the fact that he doesn't.

A few more smacks, and Mark is moved to his feet. He stands in front of Gary, head down, arse sore, waiting for whatever's coming next. Gary's fingers skim over Mark's chest, slithering down his belly and around to his bum. It hurts, but Mark is concerned less about Gary hurting him, and more about not being touched where he desperately needs it.

Gary picks up on this, and gives him another light swat. It stings. Mark doesn't flinch.

"I told you, I've waited all day for this, Mark. I'm not gonna rush it, so you stay still and let me do what I want with you. I'm in charge here, not you. Remember that? That's what you agreed to. That's what you _begged_ for."

Mark forces himself to be perfectly still, clenching his fists so tightly that his nails dig into his palms. It's uncomfortable, but it's something else to focus on whilst Gary runs his fingers along every part of his body that isn't his throbbing cock. Whilst Gary's featherlight touch is normally guaranteed to make him laugh, or moan, or beg for mercy, he can't let it. That wouldn't be right, this time.

"It's not fair, you know. I've never thought it's fair. There's people out there who'd kill to look half as good as you, and you've hogged it for yourself... You don't even have to try. It's all just natural."

Gary gazes up into his eyes, giving him a wink and a smile, and it's safe for Mark to smile back. Breaking character is comforting, reminding Mark that Gary _does_ love him, and he's only being mean for fun.

Almost as soon as the emotional, sweet, loving moment had come, it's gone.

Gary reaches behind Mark, feeling for the cuffs. He undoes one side and, keeping hold of Mark's free wrist, pulls him onto the bed. Swiftly, he moves Mark's hands up to the headboard and secures them there, tightly. Mark is glad it's just the leather ones.

"So you don't run off," Gary explains, inspecting the fastenings. "Not that you would, but I like to be sure."

He squeezes Mark's arm, and slips away.

Yet again, Mark waits. He'd wait for Gary forever, even if he had the choice. But the choice has been taken from him, and all there is left to do is attempt to make out Gary's shape in the dark. He's moving around and, if Mark cranes his neck, he can see he's near the window. He can't decide what he's up to, however.

It isn't long until he finds out.

"Always nice to get your clothes off at the end of a long day, isn't it?"

Gary climbs up, parting Mark's legs with his knee. Holding his breath, Mark braces for the next bit: cold, slick fingers probing him, making sure he's ready. Yes, Mark took care of that earlier, but Gary likes to do it anyway, partly because he enjoys it and partly because injuring Mark is one of his worst nightmares.

But there's none of that. Instead, Gary kneels on the bed, looking at him. It's too gloomy to decipher his expression properly, no matter how hard Mark tries. Despite knowing Gary's face better than any other, Mark can't work it out.

Then Gary moves, slightly and slowly, curling his hand around his cock and starting to stroke, his eyes never leaving Mark's body. It's agony, and Mark wants to scream and shout, to plead for Gary to touch _him_... but Gary won't be that easy on him.

"Wouldn't it be a shame," Gary whispers, "if I came all over you, here and now, and then went straight to bed without doing anything to you? You wouldn't be able to stop me, not while you're tied up. You wouldn't like it if I did that, would you, Markie?"

Mark shakes his head, unable to think of a single thing he'd hate more. He needs Gary inside him, fucking him and not being that kind about it. He's waited all day in torment for this, and the thought of it not happening makes him want to sob. They've toyed with orgasm denial, and he doesn't deny it's worth it, but not after _today_.

And Gary, for his faults, isn't awful. He isn't cruel, and he's fully aware he can't leave Mark in the state he's in for another second. Plus, Mark thinks, he wants it just as much.

"Keep still, now. Don't you go anywhere."

Mark obeys, naturally. Gary pushes into him, inch by tantalising inch, taking his time, and Mark's world becomes right again. The waiting, the teasing... It's okay because he's finally got Gary where he needs him most.

"You're so tight for me, baby," Gary mutters thickly as he fills Mark completely. "How does that feel?"

"Oh God," Mark groans, and Gary doesn't tell him off. "So good..."

Slowly, Gary starts to thrust. The soft and gentle approach won't last long, and Mark doesn't want it to. It wouldn't be right this time, not after everything. Until things change, however, he's happy to enjoy it like this.

And then, something does change. Suddenly it _isn't_ enough, suddenly he needs it rough and he needs it fast and he needs it _right bloody now_. Mark dares to move his legs so they're as wide as possible, hoping Gary gets the idea, thrilled when he does. He quickens his pace, pounding into Mark harder than before. Mark tips his head back on the pillow and whimpers, knowing how much Gary loves it.

"That's it," Gary says, burying his face in Mark's shoulder. "That's my Markie..."

Gary's teeth and lips suddenly brushing against Mark's neck make him gasp with delight. He lifts his hips up as far as he can, his legs barely supporting themselves, knees shaking.

"Don't come," Gary warns him. Mark is pleased with how breathless he is, the knowledge that it's because of him is almost enough to make him lose control. He won't without permission. He never would. "Wait for me, just a little longer."

If there's one thing Mark is an expert in, it's waiting. He's used to being told not to come, to holding on until he physically can't any longer. Sometimes he manages to come at the exact instant Gary tells him to, and he can tell that's on the cards tonight.

Sure enough...

"Come with me, Mark. Not yet. When I tell you to, I want you to come with me..."

Mark nods, clutching the sheets. He longs to rip his hands from the headboard so he can grab his cock and pull himself off, but he can't. Gary isn't planning on touching him either, so he lays still, totally at Gary's mercy, willing himself to come when the moment arrives.

Gary's thrusts become harder, faster and deeper, and it's clear there isn't long left. Mark balls the sheets in his fists, raising his hips higher, wanting to give Gary the time of his life. His cock throbs between them, and a shiver runs through him each time their bodies press together, giving him some much-needed stimulation.

All he has to do is hold on, and...

"Come, _now_ ," Gary pants, slamming into Mark, thumbs digging into his waist, lips crushed together.

Mark does as he's told. His whole body quivers as he crashes spectacularly over the edge, and he cries out, straining against his bonds, head spinning and toes curling. Then he feels Gary engulfing him as his own orgasm sends him to heaven and back, muttering Mark's name over and over, nuzzling his neck.

It's over too soon, and afterwards neither of them can be bothered to move very far. Gary presses an affectionate peck to Mark's cheek, and Mark feels his smile. He reaches up to undo the handcuffs, and rubs Mark's wrists tenderly once they're released.

Mark loves him more than life itself, and yearns to lay there for the rest of time.

And there's no reason why he can't. All they need to do is bask in the glow, both more satisfied than ever, hoping the next time isn't too far away.

A few minutes of quiet cuddling pass, and then Gary recovers his voice. He kisses Mark's forehead lovingly, before moving down to whisper into his ear.

"Well," he murmurs. "If that's what you're like after one day of teasing, I wonder what you'd be like after a _week_..."

And Mark, in spite of the sensible side of his brain wanting him to, can't find it in himself to argue.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Not sure when I'll be back, but hopefully it won't be long... Although I'm planning on editing a longer, multi-chapter fic, so it could be years tbh.


End file.
